Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
SEE YOU AT 9, ANGRY COWBOY.
Blair
Unknown
General store. 9am. Stain.
Me
Griffin?
Unknown
Yes.
Me
First, how did you get my number? Second, are all of your texts always this short and abrupt?
Griffin
Nan. Yes.
Me
Great. See you at 9, angry cowboy.
“You’re kidding!” Kodi practically shrieks through the phone.
I laugh. “I wish I was. Angry Cowboy actually built me a whole deck. And I’m not going to lie, it’s a really nice one too.”
“What a turn of events.” She emphasizes each word. “And hold on, is he actually a cowboy?”
“Truthfully…I don’t even know,” I say with a chuckle in my voice. “But he has this look about him that definitely screams cowboy. It’s like he showers and tosses some dirt on his jeans or something to finish the look.”
“I thought he owned the bar in town?”
“He does. I don’t think Bluestone Lakes has cattle and shit. Or whatever you call those creatures on ranches that they herd and stuff. But he rides horses and definitely looks good in a cowboy hat.”
“I’m glad you're finally admitting it out loud.” Kodi beams, likely nodding her head in approval.
“And…I told him about Theodore.”
Kodi gasps on the other end of the line.
“I was mad at first about the deck because I didn’t want to rely on a man to help me with anything unless I asked. Once I got over myself, I was like, this is actually nice , and I thanked him.” I pause, seeing if she will say anything more. “With a hug.”
“Blair!” she shouts my name so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “You hugged the grumpy neighbor?”
“I know, I know.” I find myself pacing my living room telling her the story. “It just happened. And it felt so weird.”
“Like a good weird, or a bad weird?”
I stop pacing. “Kodi, the man was stiff as a board, like he hadn’t been hugged ever in his life. But it was a good kind of weird. He felt good.” I sigh. “Griffin is all man . Rugged and broad and it was… He felt strong.”
“Ha! There you go. Someone to fulfill your needs ,” she coos.
“Not everything needs to be about sex.”
“But it helps.” She laughs, and I just roll my eyes even though she can’t see me.
“This is a really small town. The last thing I want to do is ruin my reputation around here,” I say .
“Ohhh, big reputation.”
“Now’s not the time for jokes,” I warn her.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about it.
For an entire week.
I played every scenario in my head and the consequences of falling for my neighbor. The list of reasons I want to get to know him more, be around him, and just talk to him was long. Only the short list of reasons I shouldn’t that holds me back.
The biggest being my fear of heartbreak again.
Because of what I went through, I now just assume all men are the same.
I conjured up a whole fake scene in my head of me dating Griffin. He would kiss me goodbye in the morning before going off to ride his horse at the ranch. He didn’t come home before going right to the bar. He then called me to tell me he was going right back to the ranch. Only for me to head there to the spot Lily told me was her favorite to watch the sunset and find him with someone who works on the ranch, riding him like a horse in one of the stalls.
The scene is so irrational and out there.
But seeing something as horrific as I did with my own two eyes has ruined me. I cried myself to sleep a few nights ago with the thought that I may never be able to love again. That I may never be able to open myself up completely to allow someone, even the chance to hurt me.
Dammit. I want to, though.
I crave that big, loud love.
“Fine.” Kodi’s voice shuts down my runaway brain. “But I think you should just let him help you. You can work on growing your independence while still accepting help. Isn’t that a part of it?”
I release a long exhale. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know,” she scoffs. “I always am.”
“Whatever.” I laugh at her antics. “I have to go. I’ll text you later. Love you. ”
“Love you big,” she says just before hanging up the phone.
I check the clock on the stove and realize Griffin should be here any minute now, and I’m still in my sleep set. Opening the front door, I assess the weather for the day. You know how you stick an arm out to feel the temperature to decide your outfit choice? Yeah, it’s the only way to do it around here.
Shuffling through my closet, I find a pair of biker shorts and settle on an old, oversized T-shirt since I know we’ll be staining the deck today. Not that I’m even sure how staining a deck works. It’s got to be the same thing as painting, right?
I hustle into the bathroom and quickly throw my hair up in a half bun and let the rest fall in its natural waves to keep it out of my face for this project. Just as I throw the last bobby pin into the small bun, I hear a knock at the door that startles me and spikes a nervous energy through me.
I’m spending the day with Griffin.
He’s staying here to help me finish the deck.
It’s just strange, considering when I first got here, I thought he couldn’t stand me. I swear he was avoiding me for so long by spending his mornings leaving the house, working during the day, and then still not coming home until the late hours of the night.
Uh, yeah. I’m embarrassed by how much I watched him.
Finally answering the door, I’m greeted with the unfazed face he always wears, paired with his signature flannel rolled up at the sleeves. I feel warmth spread through my body instantly because he makes flannels look so damn good. I almost want to tell him to never roll the sleeves down.
But what really makes the whole ensemble is the dark brown cowboy hat that only brings out the deep blues of his eyes. A combination I could find myself lost in if I’m not careful.
I clear my throat, breaking myself from the trance he’s put me in already. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” he replies with a nod. “Ready to stain this thing? ”
My hand flies to my chest, and I gasp. “Did Griffin Barlow just say more than one word? In a row? I feel blessed, and it’s only nine in the morning.”
I swear I see the corner of his lip faintly twist in a grin, but it’s hard to confirm because I’ve yet to see the man actually smile with anyone. Not with his sister when I spotted him at the General Store and not the times I’ve gone to Seven Stools with Lily for lunch.
“Let’s go pick out a color for this deck,” he says, looking down at the wood.
“I’m ready,” I say, grabbing my cross-shoulder purse and bending down to pet my dog’s head. “Reginald, be a good boy. You can’t come with me today, so stay here.”
Reginald barks in response.
“You take him everywhere with you?” Griffin asks from just outside the front door.
I smile in his direction while still petting Reginald’s head, and I nod. “He’s really not as bad as you think.”
Griffin looks from me to the dog before looking back at me.
“You want to bring him with us?”
I stand up, mouth open in shock that he’s even offering when it seems like he can’t stand dogs. Lily has mentioned it and the way he demanded Reginald stay off his property told me everything I needed to know.
“You…want me to bring him? Like, in your truck? And to the store with us?” I rattle off the questions while my heart thrums in my chest.
He gives me a curt nod.
Without reading too much into it, I reach for Reginald’s leash, and he barks in response.
“You want to go for a drive, buddy?” I ask my dog, using my best puppy voice.
That earns me another bark and a rapid wag of his tail before he jumps up on my leg and starts spinning in circles in excitement .
A laugh bubbles from my chest. “Okay. Okay. But you have to be an extra good boy.”
Reginald sits and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out and panting in response before I hook the leash up to his collar and guide him out the door.
Once in the truck, Griffin’s manly scent envelops me, and I feel dazed and lightheaded at the wild turn of events. Mostly because I never expected this man to do any of this. Not only offering to help me but being so welcoming to allow my dog to come with us for this mini adventure.
If that’s what you want to call it.
Reginald sits up tall on my lap, resting his paws on the armrest of the door, looking at the views out the window. Griffin surprises me yet again when he rolls the window down for him. Mostly because I’m shocked this ancient truck even has power windows.
His tail wags a mile a minute, and his little ears fall back from the wind in his face. I can’t help the laughter that I allow to come to the surface despite feeling nervous in Griffin’s space.
I look over at Griffin, who has one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear stick. His head snaps straight ahead as if I just caught him staring at me and he didn’t want me to notice.
Little does he know, I notice a lot about the man in the driver’s seat.
He isn’t who I thought he was.
I regret silently wishing to myself that someone would put marbles in his gas tank. I know it does nothing, but he would have had to spend thousands of dollars trying to fix the problem.
I never said that aloud to anyone, but I definitely wished it after he scolded me for Reginald pissing on his rosebush.
And now here we are, both me and the dog that I thought couldn't stand, sitting in his truck.
I finally stop staring at him and bring my gaze back to the view outside. But my heart rate refuses to settle, and neither do the butterflies in my stomach that warn me I could fall for this man.
The trip to General Store was filled with a strange, awkward energy. Almost everyone we saw greeted Griffin. I couldn’t shake the feeling that all eyes were on me during our brief trip. The fear of being judged by the townspeople, of them thinking I’m just a city girl trying to lasso a cowboy, sent my nerves into overdrive. I was thankful Reginald was with me because something about the presence of him keeps me calm.
These are irrational thoughts, but something I can’t help but wonder.
I settle on a dark gray stain that I feel would perfectly contrast the shade of blue on the outside of the house. To my surprise, Griffin agreed with me. But now that we’re back at the house, and prepping what we need to start the project, he’s back to being the quiet man I knew before.
“You’re going to want to test a small area first,” Griffin finally says after getting everything set up for me. “And then you start with the railings and vertical surfaces before doing the base of the deck.”
“Me?”
He nods.
I stare at him for a few heartbeats and realize he’s letting me take control of this. He wants me to do it.
Because he knows.
He knows, even from our brief interaction, how much doing this project means to me even if it is absolutely insane.
I look away from him, down to where he has the can of stain open with the supplies next to it. I feel overwhelmed and extremely out of place. A part of me even feels stupid because I know I’m way over my head thinking I could have done this on my own.
“Can you…show me?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes,” he says, moving quickly to where everything is set out on the grass for me. “First, you need to put these on.” He hands me a pair of gloves and I put them on the same time he puts his on. “This is a bristle brush,” he tells me, lifting a wide-looking brush in my direction.
I crouch down next to him and take it from his hands, our fingertips brushing when I do, and I suck in a quiet breath, hoping he didn’t notice how the small touch affected me.
I swallow, holding it up and dipping it into the can without further instruction.
“See. You got it,” he praises. “Make sure you brush it along the side of the can so you don’t have too much stain on the brush.”
I nod, brushing it against the can before bringing it to the railing of the deck closest to the house for the test spot.
“Like this?” I ask him, moving the brush in languid strokes against the wood.
“Go with the grain,” he says.
I look up at him before looking back down where I have the brush against the wood. “I don’t know what that means,” I admit.
Griffin takes a few steps toward me until his body crowds every part of mine. I lift the brush to hand it to him, but he shakes his head.
“I’m going to teach you,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly, forcing my insides to do a full somersault.
His body is so close to being pressed against my back that if one gust of wind blew into me, it would push me against him. His large palm moves to cover my hand wrapped around the brush handle and his other cages me in, resting against the railing.
“See these small lines in the wood, the ones that travel through it?” he asks, and I nod in response. “That’s the grain of the wood. You want to stain in the same direction as those lines.”
“Okay,” I breathe out, unable to even control what’s happening in my head right now, let alone say more words than that.
His fingertips apply light pressure against mine as he moves the brush with me in the direction of the lines. I can barely register what we’re doing because the only thing I can think of is how good it feels to be doing this with Griffin.
How good his hand feels around mine.
Everything that’s led to this moment only confirms the idea of something with him swirling in my head. He’s shown me that behind that rugged exterior, he cares.
He ran to my house in the rain when he thought something was killing me, when it was really just a moose.
He came back to my house after I fell off my deck, tending to my knee when I didn’t even realize I needed it.
And he built me this entire deck.
As we move farther down the deck rail, a rock catches on my sneaker and I lose my footing, forcing my back to collide with his chest. My breath hitches as I feel his every muscle against me, his arms preventing my fall. My body freezes in his small embrace, and I turn my head to meet his gaze. I’m taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, a kaleidoscope of blues that seems to pierce through me. He looks down at my lips, then back up, holding my attention.
Is he going to kiss me?
Does he want to kiss me?
Do I want him to kiss me?
Yes. I want all of it. I want to know what it would feel like kissing Griffin Barlow in the worst way possible.
His throat bobs before he lifts my body to a full standing position, averting his gaze to the deck. When he steps away from me completely, I feel cold and embarrassed for even thinking he wanted to kiss me .
“This color is going to look good on this,” he says, refusing to look at me.
“It is,” I say, pushing down my flustered thoughts.
I move to pick up the second bristle brush and get to work on some of the vertical pieces of the deck while he moves to work on another area of the deck, putting distance between us.
The faster this project is done, the faster I can get inside and away from this intense feeling of being around him.
I’m not sure what I was thinking.